A/N: Ok, so here's the next chapter. Thanks to people who reviewed, I really appreciate it. In the next chapter or two, we'll be getting into some very, very dark content, so be forewarned.
Forty-five minutes later, Bobby swaggered back out to the car, Jack in tow, staring fearfully at the ground.
Bobby rolled his eyes. That just wasn't gonna fly. The kid needed a freakin' backbone.
He stopped, and spun quickly. Jack hadn't realized he'd stopped, and ran in him, before falling on his ass.
"See? That's what happens when you stare at the ground. You walk into people," Bobby said with a grin, before turning again, and heading back to the car.
"So, kid: when was the last time you seen your sister?"
Jack shrugged as the two teenagers climbed into the car, but kept quiet.
"No, see, this is one of those questions that you have to answer, or you're gonna start walkin' again. And trust me, it's a long way to Detroit from here."
"I dunno. Six years, I guess."
"How do you know she's still in Detroit?" Bobby asked skeptically, pulling back onto the interstate.
The kid shrugged again, fingers twitching nervously. "I got a postcard from her two years ago. The return address was Detroit."
"Jesus, kid, have a damn cigarette before you get arthritis with all your twitchin'. There any other address, or just 'Detroit'?"
Jack shook his head as he pulled a cigarette from the pack resting on the middle seat. "No. Just a post office in Detroit. No P.O. box, no address. She didn't want my ma findin' out where she was," He said quietly.
Bobby shook his head. "Great, kid. So we're right back to you tryin' to find one person in a city of over seven hundred thousand."
It'd been silent in the car for six hours. Jack had fallen asleep about an hour ago -after smoking a whole damn pack, Bobby thought irritably- which made things a little less uncomfortable. But not much.
He sighed as he reached for a cigarette, and struggled to pull his Zippo lighter out of his jacket pocket. The damn kid had no idea what he was gettin' into. And at his age, there would be plenty of people more than willing to educate him on the reality of life, real quick. He'd end up being somebody's cock-bitch, or drug mule faster than he could blink.
Bobby snorted. If he was lucky, that's all the kid would end up. Chances were better he'd wind up raped, strangled, and left to rot in a ditch somewhere.
He shook his head, as he went to open his Zippo...
And as soon as the 'click' from the lighter was heard, Jack spazzed, jerking awake, and swinging at Bobby, catching him in the side of the head, and smashing the older boy's head off the window.
Before either one of them knew what was happening, they were off the road, and headed for a large tree. Bobby slammed on the breaks, and managed to slow the car down to fifty before colliding.
There was silence for a few moments, both teenagers stunned and dazed, before Bobby found his voice.
"Aw, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Bobby swore, holding a hand to his bleeding head, before turning his attention to Jack. "What the fuck, kid? You tryin' to fuckin' kill us? What the fuck is your problem, shithead?"
Jack groaned, but didn't reply as he leaned his head back against the headrest.
"You fuckin' hear me, punk? What the fuck was that?" Bobby roared, reaching over and swatting the boy with the hand not covered in blood. "You fuckin' stupid?"
He stopped instantly at the terrified look in Jack's eyes, as the kid's hands scrambled at the seat-belt and door handle, blood dripping out of a huge gash in his forehead, and his nose.
"P-p-p-please, I-I-I'm s-s-s-sorry," Jack whimpered, cowering in the seat as he stopped trying to get out of the car. "I-i-i-it was an a-a-accident. Please, m-m-m-mister, I-I-I'm s-s-sorry."
Bobby bit his lip, hard, struggling to reign in his temper as he counted back from ten slowly like Evelyn had taught him. Finally, he took a deep breath, and looked over at Jack, who was still huddled in the seat, shaking like a leaf as he watched Bobby with large, fear filled eyes.
"Okay. It's not that bad. We're both alive, right? Right. Okay. Damn. Here, let me get a look at your head, kid." When Jack gave no signs of moving, Bobby sighed impatiently. "Look, Jack, I've got a hold of my temper by a fuckin' thread, you get me? So let's just do what I say for at least the next few minutes, understood?"
As the kid slowly turned his head towards him, Bobby reached out, and tilted his face up, ignoring the quivering, shaking mess the kid was turning into.
Well, it wasn't that bad. Bobby'd gotten worse playin' hockey before. Granted, he'd had Evelyn stitch him up when it was that bad, but it wasn't gonna kill him anytime soon, even if Bobby didn't stitch it. Which, considering the state the kid was in, probably was a good idea. His nose on the other hand was definitely broken. No fixing that.
Turning his attention back to himself, he pulled down the visor, and glanced at the cut near his temple. That wasn't all that bad either. Not even enough to warrant stitches.
"Okay. I can figure this out. Damn it all to hell, kid."